


Devotion to Duty

by astrokath



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: AU, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sexual Content, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrokath/pseuds/astrokath
Summary: Kylara, Benden's Weyrwoman, knows exactly what she wants... and exactly what she needs.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calenlily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calenlily/gifts).



 

**Devotion to Duty**

 

You could learn a lot about a man from how he looked at you.  T’bor looked at her the same way he looked at Orth - with thoughtless, devoted adoration in his eyes.  The fosterlings back at Telgar had eyed her like they did her brother’s best stallion - a creature to be desired, smart enough to be trained, but of no real consequence; one that they might one day be gifted the use of, whether for a night or a lifetime. Others at the Weyr, who saw her face and body and the vivacity of her heart, and celebrated her freely for what she was, before returning their hearts dutifully to their dragons.  And now that she was Prideth’s rider? And more than that, now that Lessa and Ramoth were gone: now that she was the Weyrwoman of Benden?

 

Well, not a great deal had changed.

 

Kylara smiled across at Prideth, her queen, dozing sleepily on the ledge. She shifted her stool into the sunlight, then sat down. Flamethrower and cleaning oilcloths were already waiting - she’d brought them out as soon as T’bor had left for his visit to one of the coastal holds. A rumour of firelizards, of all things! Truthfully, the rudimentary maintenance that a flamethrower required between threadfalls wasn’t a chore she particularly enjoyed, but there were some jobs she preferred not to delegate to others, not even to T’bor. He was attentive enough to do a decent job on her flying straps, but the man had _no_ understanding of technology. After that day when Mardra had drawn her aside and explained a few things about flamethrower accidents…! To be fair to the Smithcrafthall, they’d upped their game since then, but her early training had been appalling.

 

She was almost finished when the shadow of a man interrupted her work. Prideth was fully asleep now, so she couldn’t ask her queen who it was or why they came, but-

 

No. She didn’t need to ask her queen anything. Good.

 

Pretending she hadn’t noticed him arrive, she got back to work with gusto. With her sleeves rolled up and her posture as it was, her well-toned arms and her breasts would be shown to good advantage. She let her hands linger tantalisingly as she finished drying the wand, before looking up at him through the tendrils of hair that had slipped free of her braid, lips deliberately parted, knowing her face would be flushed from her exertions and the chill of the morning air.

 

“F’lar! I didn’t hear you arrive!” 

 

“I heard that T’bor-“

 

Well _that_ wouldn’t do! Kylara swiftly threw her heavy, balled-up cloth at him, and he caught it easily an inch from his face. “It’s really not fair to sneak up on a woman like that, especially when she’s getting herself covered in dirt and grease!”

 

He gave her a rare smile. “Life isn’t fair, Kylara.”

 

You could learn a lot about a man from how he looked at you.  F’lar, though, was different. Different in how he looked at her, different in himself. He knew what it was to hurt people. To carry the guilt of his failures.  To never quite be in control of his own destiny.  And yet… who else was enough of a man to give her the freedom and respect she craved?

 

“Did you have some news for me, F’lar?” she asked mildly.  “From your Wing’s sweep this morning, maybe, or gossip from the Lower Caverns?  I hear Mnementh caught a green yesterday; that must have been fun for you.”

 

He didn’t rise to the bait. He very rarely did.

 

“Nothing of particular note, Weyrwoman. I just happened to be passing by.” But his eyes shifted from her own to those of her queen, heavily lidded in sleep, and then to the wider Weyr.

 

###

 

The night before, she’d taken a bluerider to her bed. He was a man she’d had her eye on for a while - a recent transfer from Telgar Weyr, perhaps a turn or two older than herself, and more heavily muscled than was typical of a dragonrider. But she’d noticed the deft way he’d used his large hands on subtle, everyday tasks, and there were rumours besides that his other… endowments… were similarly proportioned.

 

Sadly, it had been a singularly disappointing experience.  Not the sex - that had been everything she’d craved, once he forgot to restrain himself - but the rest of it? Disappointing. He’d shown no initiative at all, never once stepped more than arm’s length beyond the bounds of customary Weyr propriety, and although his desire for her had been plain enough to see, it was just too… _easy_. So what if half of T’bor’s Wing had heard her cries of pleasure? She could manage her physical responses well enough on her own - and frequently had to, once T’bor was done. 

 

Kylara sighed heavily.  It was cruel, how much was denied to her. She was a queen rider, a _Weyrwoman_ , for Faranth’s sake!  She’d been born for this role, hadn’t she? She’d known since she was a small girl that she was destined for greatness. And she’d risen with her queen, had out-flown every dragon on Pern, had made her mates _earn_ the right to master her. If any man could understand her needs, it ought to be a dragonrider!

 

Instead, they took her for granted. They wanted her, but not enough to take control. And when she gave herself to them, when she had a man fuck her the way she needed to be fucked, it was her weakness she proved to herself rather than her strength.

 

She hated it.

 

“Why do you _do_ it, woman?” T’bor demanded once again.  His eyes glistened with emotion.  It made him look like an ill-used canine.

 

“Do what?”

 

“My whole Wing is talking about what you did. Faranth, haven’t you heard of _discretion?_ F’garo, of all people? You read his transfer documents; you know he has a loose tongue!”

 

“Did I?” Honestly, she couldn’t recall whether she had or not, but _loose_ certainly wasn’t the first adjective that sprang to her mind. Setting her stylus down, she pushed the accounts aside. Manora had balanced them well, as usual, and there were marks to spare for a few additional luxuries in keeping with her station.  “Really, T’bor! You’re not feeling threatened by a mere _bluerider_ , are you?”

 

“People _talk,_ ” he muttered, before stalking out of her weyr.

 

###

 

“May I have this dance?”

 

Spinning on her toes, skirts flaring wide, Kylara readied herself to bestow a dazzling smile on her latest suitor.  Instead, she found herself gasping in surprise. “F’nor! You’re back from Southern?”

 

“For a while.”

 

She slipped easily into his arms, amused by the change in him. “You never used to dance with me.”

 

“You never asked me to _dance_.”

 

“Oh, did I not?”

 

The music carried them towards the edge of the dancing square, where the light from the suspended glowbaskets dimmed - deliberately, she soon realised.  Another figure was waiting in the shadows, and who else could it be but F’lar?  _Well this_ is _interesting!_ she said to Prideth, before greeting the bronzerider by name.

 

“Kylara,” he replied in turn. “F’nor tells me you’ve been discussing cross-transfers with the Weyrwomen of the other Weyrs.”

 

She raised her brows at F’nor. “Sick-bed gossip, or is it nursey Brekke you heard it from?”

 

“Both, actually,” F’lar said on his half-brother’s behalf, as F’nor turned back to the dancers. “Why?”

 

As if he had any right to an answer! “That’s Weyrwomen’s business, F’lar, not yours.”

 

“You know T’bor won’t agree to it.”

 

“I don’t see a problem. T’bor’s no more a Weyrwoman than you are.” Then, she gave a broad smirk. “Though it might explain a lot of things about him.”

 

For some reason, that barb struck home, when so many others hadn’t. Before she could blink, F’lar’s fingers were tight on her wrist. “You may not respect him as a man, but the least you can do is give him the courtesy due his rank and skills.”

 

Kylara stared him down. “Why in Faranth’s name should I?”

 

“He’s _your_ Weyrleader, Kylara.”

 

“Is he? Who was it who _gave_ him to me, F’lar?  What would you do if you were me? Warm his bed and darn his socks like a wherry-headed Holder girl?”

 

“What would _you_ do, if you were T’bor?” he retorted.

 

“If I were T’bor, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

 

F’lar laughed, mockingly. “You’d lead the wings, would you?”

 

“Hardly,” she drawled. “If I were T’bor, I’d actually _talk_ to the Lords Holder outside of tithe negotiations. I’d pay attention to the people who can make a difference for us all, rather than keeping to the company of bronzeriders and whichever flipskirt catches his fancy this Turn.”

 

F’lar raised an eyebrow at her blatant hypocrisy. “Perhaps he sees in them what he doesn’t see in you?”

 

Kylara mirrored his gesture. “…but if _you_ have to ask _me_ what I would do in his place… well, I’m starting to doubt whether you’d do any better yourself.”  He made a noise of disbelief, but she wasn’t finished with him yet. He’d interrupted her dancing, for _this_? “Face it, F’lar. Pern doesn’t need you. And I certainly don’t either.”

 

He leaned close, his demeanour almost threatening. Her breath caught in her throat.

 

“You want _me_ though,” he said.

 

Well, it had taken him long enough to notice! “Me?” Kylara shook her head and laughed. “Ha! What I want is Mnementh for Prideth, and a gold daughter for the Weyr. If I wanted _you_ , I’d have had you a long time ago.”

 

She turned her back on him and started back towards the music, but not quite quickly enough to miss his parting shot.

 

“Likewise,” F’lar snarled.

 

 

###

 

They didn’t fuck until a whole month after the Gather.  The tension built gradually and deliciously between them, while Kylara did everything she could to fan the flames. She didn’t doubt that he saw right through her games with him, but he was a player too, and a rather desperate one at that. His world and his woman and his Weyr had slipped utterly from his grasp when Lessa died. He probably had more of a need to prove himself than Kylara herself.

 

And prove himself he did.

 

They were in the weyr that had once been Lessa’s, and now was hers and T’bor’s. She hadn’t been gentle with him, nor he with her. Simple passion rapidly gave way to more measured acts: everyone knew she _knew_ how to please a man, but her skills at taunting and teasing them were things she’d developed and learned to use with care. She took control, steadying their pace, disparaging his arrogant assumption that what he offered other women was anywhere close to good enough for her.  It took a while to rouse his anger as fully as his lust, but rouse him she did. And then… oh, and _then_!

 

Seeing it in his eyes, in the way he looked at her, was thrilling beyond belief. But F’lar could do more than stand against her; he could stand against himself. He didn’t strike her once, and that excited her even more than if he had. He’d wanted to, and he hadn’t.

 

“You don’t have it in you, do you?” she drawled. “F’garo had more-“

 

He still didn’t strike her, but that didn’t matter at all. She found her release again and again, and he made her beg for it each time. She pushed him away, as ineffectually as she could without making the whole thing unconvincing, and she wept as he took his pleasure in her again, fierce as his dragon might. She could scarcely think at all when they were done.

 

“Are you convinced now, Kylara?” he breathed into her ear, before rolling off and away.

 

“This won’t happen again,” she lied.

 

At the back of her mind, Prideth was approving. _Yes_ , the queen agreed. _Yes, I think you might be right, my heart.  They will be good for us both._

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, Lessa dies in childbirth, but much of the 9th Pass plotlines remain unchanged. Kylara and Prideth return to Benden from the South when Ramoth goes /between/. The Oldtime Weyrleaders are a little less disgruntled with T'bor as a peer, but it's fair to say that the Holders are less enamoured of the price of keeping the Weyrs and weyrfolk sweet. You can take it as a given that there'll be some upheaval all over Pern pretty soon...


End file.
